Honor Among Thieves
by Impyrium
Summary: (Between the events of ME2 and ME3) Zaeed Massani finds himself on Elysium: broke and in debt to the wrong people. Kasumi Goto is up to her usual tricks and thievery. Their paths cross, and they form an unlikely partnership...the criminal syndicates of the galaxy soon take notice.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Welcome to my second fanfic! 'Mass Effect: Reformation' is still the primary story I'm writing, but sometimes it's nice to work on a second story, with different characters and settings. This fic will likely consist of a few chapters, but it might go for a bit longer if I come up with more ideas.

Rated T for violence and minor swearing.

~#~#~#~

"Mr. Massani!" The voice rang sharply, and the mercenary jerked upright in his chair. He had been in that peculiar no man's land between sleep and consciousness, where one could feel their mind drifting away, yet be fully aware of it. His mismatched eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to clear the blurriness from his vision.

"Yeah?" Zaeed cleared his throat and then hastily added "Sir". He included the honorific with a poorly-masked tone of scorn and insubordination.

Mr. Davies stared disapprovingly, wondering whether he should scold the man for sleeping on the job. He knew he had the authority to discipline Zaeed, but something about the hired gun was oddly feral. Mr. Davies had insisted that Zaeed wear the formal uniform of his security staff, and the mercenary had reluctantly obliged him. And yet, between the man's hideously scarred face, the one pale eye, and his Blue Suns mercenary tattoo, there was something about Zaeed Massani that made Mr. Davies slightly nervous. One of the other bodyguards had joked "You can't polish a turd!" in reference to Zaeed's appearance, but to Mr. Davies, it was more akin to dressing a varren in a three-piece suit.

Mr. Davies was a lawyer, under the employ of a man named Franco Antonelli. He was a pale, skinny man – so slender that he appeared almost skeletal. Strands of white, wispy hair were neatly combed above a face that seemed rigid in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction.

"This way please, Mr. Massani." The lawyer chose to ignore Zaeed's obvious dereliction of duty, deciding that the upcoming meeting might be unpleasant enough already.

They walked down an empty hallway, on expensive hardwood floors topped with a rich purple carpet. Every few feet, a different painting hung on the wall – portraits and landscapes purchased from Earth, Palaven, Thessia, and even one that was reputedly painted on Rannoch before the Geth War.

They came to a large room, similarly furnished in extravagance. Larger paintings hung from the walls here, and between each of them sat alternating marble and obsidian sculptures on matching pillars. In the center of the room, two rows of Turian statues stood sentinel. Each one portrayed a unique Turian soldier from ancient times, carved from some silvery mineral native to Palaven. They loomed larger than a fully grown man. Each seemed to grimly judge the mercenary and lawyer as they stepped between them to the only furniture present in the room: an intricately carved mahogany desk, and a high-backed leather chair facing the room's entrance.

The man who sat in the chair was Franco Antonelli. He was a massive man, made fat by years of indulgence and decadence. His nervous eyes shifted constantly from underneath a mop of greasy brown hair as the two men approached him. He always appeared tense and sweating, even though he had little reason to be. A small army of security guards patrolled his enormous estate, and a loyal, elite few stayed by his side at all times. In that very room, there were four of them – two by the entrance, and one standing to each side of the desk. Franco was one of the most powerful men amongst Elysium's criminal underbelly, and upon seeing Zaeed step closer, he grinned. It wasn't a smile born of friendliness, but one that communicated a clear message: that Franco Antonelli all but owned Zaeed Massani, and both men knew it.

~#~#~#~

Zaeed had departed from the Normandy shortly after Commander Shepard's successful attack through the Omega-4 Relay. As promised, The Illusive Man had paid him handsomely for his services. It was more money than Zaeed had ever seen in his life, and so he did what other impoverished men often did when faced with excessive wealth – he spent it carelessly. The first few months upon leaving the Normandy were a blur of exotic foods, expensive liquors, and beautiful women. Trouble came when Zaeed started to dabble in gambling – not in legitimate casinos, but in the posh, secret back-rooms of dangerous and wealthy men.

He had found himself in one such room on Elysium, playing a high-stakes version of poker that was popular on Irune. Zaeed had both his good and bad nights, but that evening had been catastrophic. By the end, he found himself owing a massive sum of money that would've nearly bankrupted him.

The game was hosted by Hector Vilmarc, a man responsible for most of the smuggling that took place on Elysium. His nephew, Stefan, was there in person presiding over the game. He was new to the organization and eager to prove himself. Upon seeing Zaeed's misfortune, he decided to demonstrate his authority.

"You have twenty-four hours to get us the money." He personally delivered the ultimatum as a bitter, half-drunk Zaeed was preparing to leave.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll get what's owed you." muttered Zaeed, not even bothering to look up.

"You have twenty-four hours, or I will **personally** shatter your legs." Stefan grabbed Zaeed by the shoulder and attempted to force the man to face him. The mercenary's gaze was full of murderous hatred, and Stefan inadvertently took a step backward.

"Personally? I doubt you could wipe your own arse without needing your little goons to lend a hand." Zaeed spoke softly, but his words dripped with malice. "Now, I'm sure you need to get back to counting your uncle's money like a good little bitch. Kindly get the hell out of my way."

Stefan's face turned a deep shade of red and contorted with anger. He pulled a gilded, ornate pistol from his belt and pointed it between Zaeed's eyes. The muzzle, mere inches from Zaeed's face, quivered as Stefan visibly shook with rage. The mercenary appeared to smile, but it more closely resembled a predator baring its teeth.

"Not smart, boy. Not smart at all..."

There had been three other bodyguards in the room, but Zaeed's reputation as one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy was well-earned. Even inebriated, he fought with ruthless skill, and within minutes all four enemies were on the ground. The bodyguards had been beaten into unconsciousness with the gilded pistol, which lay broken and useless on the floor. Stefan had also been knocked out, but not before Zaeed had broken both his legs, one arm, and half the teeth in his mouth. Zaeed knew deep down that had probably overreacted, but he was too drunk and irate to care. He went home, downed some Batarian whiskey, and passed out.

He awoke to a soft pinging noise, indication that he had received a video message over the extranet. Zaeed groaned, thoroughly hungover. Memories of the night before began to flood back into his mind, and he swore viciously. He reasoned it was time to leave Elysium and head to the Terminus Systems, possibly back to Omega. He hit 'Play' on his apartment's vid screen as he began to pack his belongings.

"Good morning, my friend!" A middle-aged, sharply-dressed man appeared on the screen. His long black hair was slicked back and hung down to just past his ears. A pair of spectacles sat upon a beak-like nose, under which pale eyes seemed to mockingly stare into Zaeed. It was Hector Vilmarc.

"I understand you had a busy night. However, come morning, a man must face the consequences of his actions. As you already know, there are the losses you incurred from my game, which have yet to be paid in full." He flashed a wan, sympathetic smile. "Lady Luck can be quite fickle – God knows I've endured my share of misfortune amongst the cards. But then there stands the matter of my nephew, who is currently recovering in the hospital. Now, I'm sure a number of unsavory men in my line of work might instantly turn to vengeance. But I am a businessman, and out of respect for your reputation, I will allow you twenty-four hours to pay your gambling debt…in addition to restitution for my nephew's pain and suffering."

"Bugger that." Zaeed snarled at the video message.

"If you do not pay within this time, I will be compelled to send my men. I acknowledge your skills and penchant for violence, and we both know that this option will result in many deaths. But understand this – if you force me to this action, I **will **have my pound of flesh." Hector's tone was even, almost as if he were casually discussing the weather. "I have eyes on all the spaceports of Elysium. Attempt to escape the planet, and you will be discovered and brought to me."

Zaeed was hit by the meaning of these words and sat down heavily. He stared at the video image of Hector Vilmarc and began to feel as if the jaws of a massive steel trap were closing around him.

"Have a good day, my friend. I will see you soon." The screen went dark, and then proceeded to display the total amount that Zaeed now owed. His eyes narrowed, and he began to utter a string of curses. The amount he owed for assaulting Stefan Vilmarc was evidently far more than the gambling debt – in total, it was nearly double the payment he had received from Cerberus.

The screen turned to static, and Zaeed could hear a faint hissing noise emanating from the computer's memory banks. Undoubtedly, one of Hector's engineers had sent the message with some kind of malware, to force Zaeed's computers into deleting the message once it had been delivered. Zaeed wasn't the type of man to flee to the authorities, but Hector was clearly a careful man.

The mercenary sat in silence for a moment, reflecting. It was an insane, ridiculous amount of money, and Hector had to know that Zaeed could not hope to pay it in twenty-four hours. It was hopeless…but that had been the true message that Hector wanted to convey. For twenty-four hours, Zaeed was meant to scramble desperately for money or await his inevitable demise.

Franco Antonelli was a rival of Hector Vilmarc, and while their antagonism never took the shape of all-out war, there were constant cloak-and-dagger movements to undermine the others' organization. Word of Zaeed's defiance had reached Franco, and so Mr. Davies had soon approached the mercenary with an offer. Zaeed would be hired as a member of the crime boss' security staff, and Mr. Davies would arrange for portions of his salary to repay the debt. And all the while, Zaeed's continued survival would serve as an insult to the Vilmarc family's pride.

Zaeed was not afraid of fighting Hector's assassins, but like all older mercenaries, he had long since learned when a fight was best avoided. Therefore, he had consented to Mr. Davies' offer, and sealed the agreement by signing a contract. Zaeed figured he could wait a few weeks until the heat died down, escape from Franco's mansion, and find a way off the planet. However, he had failed to account for the cunning of his new employers.

Franco Antonelli lived in the hills a few miles north of Illyria, in an elegant mansion that housed the man's extensive art collection. But it was also a fortress. High walls surrounded the perimeter of the mansion, manned by loyal members of his security staff. Advanced automated systems, complete with drones, monitored both the inside and outside of the estate. Zaeed, who was only given a weak stun pistol with a limited number of charges, quickly discovered that leaving in secret would not be so simple.

The contract prevented him from leaving through more legitimate means. Zaeed had not bothered to read it when he signed the document, but he soon realized his mistake. He had apparently signed a three-year minimum contract under Franco Antonelli. The pay, which had seemed reasonable at first, was subject to change on the whim of his employers at any time.

Above all, Zaeed knew that if he caused too much trouble, Franco would have no qualms about simply selling him to Hector. But instead, the man enjoyed displaying Zaeed in front of guests as "one of his finest killers in the galaxy". It was mainly this obsession with ownership that had saved Zaeed from Hector. Franco collected rare and exotic items from all across the galaxy. It was mostly artwork, but when Zaeed first arrived at the mansion, there had been some endangered creature from Thessia that Franco kept as a pet, caged in his library. Zaeed never knew what kind of creature it was, but it seemed to resemble a lion with a distinctly bird-like face. Without more than a few square feet to stretch its legs, the noble creature grew sick over the course of weeks, and wasted away to nothing. Such was how Franco Antonelli treated his belongings.

~#~#~#~

"We need to discuss the matter of your salary, Mr. Massani." Franco spoke in a nasally, high-pitched voice that seemed peculiar for a man his size. "Operating costs of conducting business have been rising. We all need to tighten our belts, so to speak." Zaeed highly doubted that Franco was capable of wearing a belt, but he kept the quip to himself.

"As your contract allows, we will be thus be adjusting your compensation." Mr. Davies chimed in. "The adjustment will be...twenty-five percent."

Zaeed's hands clenched into fists. Having his salary cut by twenty-five percent would add years beyond his minimum three, as he attempted to pay off his debt. Years in which he would just be another trophy: guarding an empty stretch of hallway, parading in front of guests, and enduring Franco's constant goading.

"Well, Mr. Massani?" asked Franco, eagerly searching Zaeed's face for a sign of impotent anger. But Zaeed merely nodded and did his best to make his face completely blank. Franco frowned briefly in disappointment, and then waved his hand dismissively, indicating the pair should leave. As they were walking away from the desk, Zaeed began to study the two bodyguards by the door. He figured he could disarm one, shoot the other, and then take cover behind the Turian statues. The other two guards by the desk would return fire, but he figured Franco would be too slow and fat to escape from his chair. It would probably mean Zaeed's death, but it was preferable this purgatory. Zaeed steeled his resolve and stepped ever closer to the bodyguards, who watched him carefully.

The lights went off. Within seconds, the emergency lighting was humming to life, casting the room in an eerie red glow. But as the lights came on, Zaeed thought he saw the door slightly ajar and then close silently, although nobody else appeared to enter the room.

"What is this?!" Franco shrieked, and all his bodyguards drew their weapons. Mr. Davies activated his omni-tool and spoke into it.

"Security teams, report in!" There was only an odd, distorted electrical noise in response.

"Looks like you're signal is being jammed locally." Zaeed spoke with a hint of relish. "Somebody's on their way to this room. Perhaps...they're already here?" He realized there was the possibility that Hector Vilmarc was making his move against him, but he no longer cared – it was better to die fighting than live in a cage.

"Shut your eyes." A whisper came from Zaeed's left. He was puzzled, but the voice was familiar and he instinctively obeyed.

Even through closed eyelids, Zaeed could see a sudden, blinding flash of light between the two bodyguards at the door. A concussive shockwave violently pushed him and Mr. Davies to the ground, but having shielded his eyes before the blast, he quickly recovered, and was able to see a blurred shadow dart from one confounded bodyguard to the next. As the figure struck, he could see a silver stun baton press against their necks; in a flash of green light, they groaned and slumped to the ground. The assailant wore a tight-fitting silver and black outfit, with a hood covering a large part of the face. The figure vanished again, and Zaeed nearly laughed out loud.

Kasumi Goto was a thief, arguably the best in the galaxy. Her name wasn't well-known, but that near-anonymity was evidence of her status as an elite. She had also been hired by Cerberus to join Commander Shepard aboard the Normandy. They both left the ship around the same time, but Kasumi had done so in secret before anybody realized she had gone, as was her style. Zaeed had heard nothing about her since.

"You might want to stay down, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble." The whisper came again, and Zaeed felt a slight breeze as a silent figure rushed past him to the other end of the room. The other two bodyguards had their weapons ready now, and were firing blindly in the direction of the entrance. Zaeed, still on the ground, had to roll behind a statue to avoid being hit by their wild gunfire.

"There! He's cloaked!" One of the guards noticed the subtle shimmer of a tactical cloak and concentrated his fire. The blurred outline seemed to be struck by the gunshots, and was replaced by the standing, motionless figure of Kasumi. Even as the bullets impacted her body, the figure was oddly still, and frozen in mid-sprint. The visage of the running form flickered.

"It's a decoy!" The other bodyguard yelled, but before he could do anything more, Kasumi was behind him. The stun baton jabbed into his lower back, and his mouth gaped in a silent scream as he fell, temporarily paralyzed. With perfect aim, Kasumi threw the baton, its trajectory a straight line between her hand and the final bodyguard's forehead. There came an emerald flash of light, a groan of pain, and single thud.

"W-who are you?" Franco stammered. He tried to stand, his plump arms struggling with the effort. Kasumi casually walked to him and pushed him back into the chair.

"You don't have to be afraid, I didn't come here to hurt anybody...well, not too badly at least." Kasumi spoke in her usual tone with its faint hint of mischief. "You have a beautiful collection; I especially like that painting of the nude Asari – it's surprisingly tasteful. But I'm here for something else." Quick as a serpent, her hand shot out and pulled Franco's hand toward her.

"No!" Franco protested, but his voice was feeble. Around his wrist was a bracelet. It was a simple piece of jewelry: constructed from an onyx-colored metal and studded with dull, burgundy-colored stones.

"Rumor has it that this is Prothean. Technological artifacts are rare enough, but jewelry? It seems their society didn't put much emphasis on vanity. A treasure indeed..." Franco tried to pull his hand back, but Kasumi was surprisingly strong for a woman of her slim frame.

"I-It's just a family heirloom. Purely sentimental value!" whined Franco, but his tone was hardly convincing. Kasumi drew a short, wicked knife.

"Franco..." The thief spoke endearingly. "Please take off the bracelet. For me?" She gave his hand a quick affectionate squeeze, but kept the blade well within his sight. Franco's eyes were wide, but he said nothing. Frantically, he began to remove the bracelet and Zaeed grinned. He and the thief had very different means of handling an enemy, but he admired her.

There came a sudden stirring of movement from Zaeed's left. Mr. Davies, recovered from the flashbang grenade, was sitting upright. He held a short pistol that must have been concealed in his suit pocket. Kasumi, her back turned to the lawyer, was oblivious to the danger. Zaeed let a cold fury take hold of his body.

With a hoarse shout, he tackled the lawyer, an instant before the trigger could be pulled. He savagely wrenched the weapon from the shocked lawyer's hand, and swung his fist down into the man's stomach. Mr. Davies gaped up at Zaeed, but the mercenary quickly continued the assault, striking the man across the face repeatedly. A soft moan escaped the older man's lips as he curled into a ball, while Zaeed stood and spat with derision.

"I bloody hate lawyers."

"You!" Franco yelled. "I saved you! You'd be sliced up into little pieces somewhere if it weren't for me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Zaeed. Kasumi turned to gaze at the mercenary; her head nodded slightly in thanks.

"You know what? You're right." Zaeed observed thoughtfully as he stepped toward the desk. "And that's why I won't kill you. I owe you that much. But...I also owe you this." Without warning, Zaeed snatched up the stun baton from the floor. He grabbed Franco by the face, his fingers digging into the man's soft, fleshy jowls. Zaeed forced the man's jaws apart and jammed the stun baton up against the roof of his mouth. There came an anguished cry, and green light illuminated the inside of Franco's mouth and nostrils. Kasumi winced.

"He'll definitely be feeling that one for a few days." She was fixing the bracelet around her own wrist. Zaeed removed the stun baton from an unconscious Franco's mouth and offered it to the thief. Her nose wrinkled at sight of saliva dripping from its end. "You keep it."

"So...what now?" Zaeed wiped the baton on the front of Franco's suit and slipped it into his pocket.

"Now? I take my leave." Kasumi gave an admiring, appreciative look at her new prize, then smiled at Zaeed. "The security systems should be down for another twenty minutes or so. But I'd better leave now before the rest of his bodyguards figure out what's going on."

"Fine. Let's go."

"Us?" questioned Kasumi. She glanced at the corpulent man in the chair. "Well, if that's what you'd like. That **was** one hell of a resignation notice." The thief chuckled, and the pair walked from the room and into the hallway.

"I can't wait to be rid of this place." Zaeed grumbled.

"I was rather surprised to see you here. Hard times?"

"You could say that." Zaeed didn't want to say much more.

"Well, now you can have a fresh start." Kasumi responded cheerfully. "I probably have a couch you can crash on for a day or two and-" She stopped abruptly as Zaeed halted before one of the hallway's paintings. It was the portrait of the nude Asari. Zaeed pulled a hidden knife from one of his boots and Kasumi watched with curiosity. "What are you doing?"

"Severance pay." Zaeed began to cut the painting out of its frame. "This one was my favorite too. Very...what did you call it? 'Tasteful'..."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! I've been busy this last month, and my agreeing to take part in the fic swap from the Aria's Afterlife forum delayed things a bit. In the interest of getting something out, there were some events I had planned for this chapter that will happen in Chapter 3, hence the slightly shorter word count.

Hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated!

~#~#~#~

When Zaeed first heard that they were headed for Kasumi's hideout, he had expected for the shuttlecar to arrive at some abandoned factory, or at a secluded cabin in the woods. What he had not expected was The Oceanus, the most luxurious and expensive hotel on Elysium. Their shuttlecar touched down on a private landing pad of the hotel's roof, complete with its own selective barrier which served to cut down on strong winds and prevent unwanted guests from landing. The roof's elevator led down into the penthouse suite on the building's top floor – or as Zaeed found out: the penthouse suite which encompassed the **entirety** of the building's top floor.

The doors opened to reveal a spacious living room area, furnished with white fur carpets, plush sofas, and a stunning view of the Illyrian cityscape. Kasumi activated her omni-tool and studied its readings briefly, before confirming that there had been no intruders during her absence. She began to show him around. The suite had its own study, personal gym area, and a kitchen worthy of a full restaurant.

"If I recall correctly, you said you had a 'couch I could crash on'?" asked Zaeed sarcastically as he poked his head into one of the several lavish bedrooms.

"Well, you **did **choose to sleep in the Normandy's cargo hold." Kasumi smiled innocently. "I wasn't sure how much luxury you were used to."

"Oh believe me, it's quite easy to get used to when you have plenty of money..."

Over drinks, Zaeed eventually told Kasumi the full story of how he ended up in Franco Antonelli's mansion: the catastrophic poker game, the savage beating he gave Hector Vilmarc's nephew, and the misleading offer for protection made by Franco's lawyer. The woman stayed silent, letting him finish the tale uninterrupted. At its end, she gave him a sympathetic look – or at least Zaeed thought it was sympathetic, for it was hard to tell with the hood obscuring most of her face.

"Well, I guess you're lucky that I showed up."

"Hmph. I was getting ready to shoot my way out of there. You just saved me some time, that's all."

"Oh, I've seen you in action. Being good with an assault rifle does wonders when you're surrounded by Collectors. But certain situations call for...a little finesse." To emphasize her point, Kasumi suddenly vanished as her tactical cloak engaged. A noise off to Zaeed's left made him jerk his head, but as he did, the expensive wine bottle on his right-hand table vanished into the aegis of Kasumi's cloak. She reappeared in her seat, and poured herself a generous helping.

"I gotta get me one of those." Zaeed chuckled.

"It's not as simple as using kinetic shields, even if they use the same power packs for energy." Kasumi replied. "Sudden, jarring motion tends to disrupt the shielding, so you need fluid, practiced movements to minimize the shimmering outline that others detect."

"I think I'll leave all that subtlety to you."

Zaeed and Kasumi had never been that close; on the Normandy, they rarely spoke to each other outside of the terse utterances necessary in combat. But as they continued drinking, they began to feel more at ease, and quickly found themselves reminiscing about their time on the ship.

"So, did you feel like Shepard never seemed all that comfortable around us?" Kasumi paused to take another sip of wine. "I mean, she'd come into the observatory after a mission to check in, and I'd talk to her about the crew or the paintings on my wall. But she never had much to say in response."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Zaeed nodded. "I showed her some trophies and told her a few war stories. She'd listen politely and all, but then she'd just scurry off to have her little heart-to-heart chats with the likes of 'Archangel' and everybody else." He considered this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Maybe it's for the best, I don't know if I could stand all the constant inquiries into my well-being."

"She did all right by us in the end, though. My heists rarely go wrong, but when things went south with Donovan Hock on Bekenstein...I probably wouldn't have gotten out alive if it weren't for her."

"Yeah, I'll give her that." Zaeed admitted. "I sleep a lot better knowing that bastard Vido Santiago is burning in hell."

"To Shepard." Kasumi raised her wine bottle, for the two rogues had long since abandoned glasses for the sake of 'efficiency'. Zaeed echoed her and they both drank.

~#~#~#~

Zaeed awoke to the smell of food, as trays of breakfast arrived through the suite's private, automated dumbwaiter. He was splayed out on the couch, with half-empty bottles of alcohol surrounding him. Kasumi – looking fresh and fully awake – handed him a plate. Propping himself upright, Zaeed accepted it with a nod as thanks.

"I never asked – how the hell does a master thief end up renting the most expensive room, in the most expensive hotel on Elysium?"

"Well the room is paid for, courtesy of the Noveria Development Corporation – but they don't know that yet." She smiled mischievously. "By the time their accountants catch it, I'll be long gone. And as far as the hotel staff is concerned, I'm an extremely wealthy salarian Dalatrass, who insists on being left alone. It's nothing too unusual, the kind of people who rent these rooms tend to value discretion."

"So I have to ask...before you leave, will you nick the towels and tiny shampoo bottles, or is that too far beneath you?" They both laughed.

The pair finished their breakfast and cleared away the mess of the previous night. Afterward, Zaeed stood at the vast windows with which the hotels had replaced the outer walls, so that occupants could appreciate the gorgeous view without any obstructions.

"I feel like I'm in a bloody aquarium here." He observed, referring to the seeming lack of privacy the suite afforded. "Are these glass walls really such a good idea?"

"They're not actually glass." corrected Kasumi. "On this floor, they're actually massive screens that project a real-time feed of the surrounding location from here. They have extremely fine pixel density and virtually zero latency. And if you get bored, you could always switch it to something else."

"I can only imagine watching a game of biotiball on a screen like this. Oh how the rich live..." Zaeed turned to her. "So now that you have your little prothean bracelet, are you done here on Elysium?"

"Not quite." Kasumi paused, as if she were hesitant to reveal anything further. "There's one more job I'm taking, but you don't need to worry about it. When I finish, I'll make sure you get off the planet safely."

"I have the distinct feeling you don't want to tell me, Kasumi." Zaeed feigned hurt at her unwillingness. "Well I'll just be here enjoying the hotel room; I'm not keen on 'finesse'. So you can feel free to fill me in."

"…If you say so. I suppose your tactical input on the situation might be helpful. Come with me." She led him to the hotel suite's study. In the center of the room there stood what seemed to be an ordinary mahogany table. But when Kasumi activated her omni-tool, two thin panels on the table's surface split apart to reveal a holographic emitter. A translucent white projection of a building appeared, with a corporate logo that Zaeed recognized immediately.

"You're going to rob Hector Vilmarc." A smile crept onto his face. "I'm coming with you."

"You said you weren't interested in 'finesse'." protested Kasumi.

"That was before you were going to rob the bastard that ruined me. Now tell me everything."

Shaking her head, Kasumi gave an exasperated sigh and activated a few commands on her omni-tool. The walls of the projected building became transparent to reveal the interior.

"Hector Vilmarc has contracts to help run most of the spaceports on Elysium. This facility is an administration and control tower for a rarely-used port on the planet's southern hemisphere. Typically, when Hector wants to smuggle something in, he'll have his paid contacts in Elysium Flight Control redirect it here. The few government officials that work at this port are on his payroll." The holographic projection zoomed in, until the fifth floor of the building was in focus. "If you compare the official building schematics to the actual dimensions, you can see that one-sixth of the space on this floor is unaccounted for. The information I gathered suggests that there are hidden rooms that hold many of his smuggled goods: drugs, illegal weapons…and slaves."

"He has a hand in the slave trade?" Zaeed asked incredulously. "In Alliance territory?"

"We're not too far from batarian space. Sometimes it's easier and cheaper for raiders to buy human slaves that come from here, rather than raid some sparsely populated colonies."

"Selling his own kind into slavery? Charming little bugger, isn't he?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "So what are we here to steal, exactly?"

"Information - records, mostly. His suppliers, his buyers, and every deal he's ever done...all that information needs to be kept close by so it can be updated frequently. He keeps it stored on a computer in one of the hidden rooms, cut off from the network so that physical access is required."

"So what do you plan to do once you get it?"

"Well, this is technically a contract job…for the Shadow Broker. The Broker seems interested in shutting him down." She looked toward Zaeed to gauge his reaction.

"Huh. I worked a job for him once. He certainly pays well enough." He stroked the stubble on his chin wistfully. "I wonder why he cares so much about smuggling."

"Maybe you should ask Shepard." There was an edge of mischief in Kasumi's voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Remember that mission to Hagalaz, right before we left the Normandy? It was all hush-hush – only Shepard, Liara, Garrus, and Tali were on the away team."

"Ah yeah…'Normandy SR-1' members only, I guess." Zaeed nodded, remembering. "I didn't really care; I was just waiting for my cash transfer from Cerberus to clear."

"Well, that mission was about meeting the Shadow Broker. I wasn't able to get much information without alerting EDI, but I have my suspicions about what transpired." When it became clear that Kasumi wouldn't reveal anything more, Zaeed grumbled.

"You and your secrets…"

"Regardless, I've found no evidence that there's anything sinister or suspicious about this contract. It should be pretty straightforward." She shrugged. "I take the shuttlecar and set it down far enough outside the spaceport to avoid detection. With all the machinery and crates that surround the building, my tactical cloak can get me inside. "

"And once you're inside?" Zaeed interjected. "You've got a few paths you can take to the fifth floor, but if he truly has all this incriminating evidence in one place, he'll have plenty of guards and sentry mechs. The second you need to take out one of them, things will get exponentially harder." When he saw that Kasumi was looking at him quizzically, he elaborated. "Vita-Sensor Implants, probably the ones manufactured by Sirta. Once they detect abnormalities in the host's vitals, it transmits a short-distance alarm to alert the rest of security. I found them embedded on the hands of Vilmarc's men, as I was teaching his nephew some manners. I was lucky to get out of there before they could send backup."

"Those implants are expensive; Hector Vilmarc is a cautious man..." Kasumi observed, her voice showing a slight hint of disappointment.

"This building isn't some sprawling mansion where security teams are spread thin. You'll be hard-pressed to avoid all of them."

"So what do you suggest?"

Zaeed had Kasumi zoom out on the building and show the entire spaceport. He was silent for a few moments, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

"If we accept that setting off the implants is unavoidable, then we'll just have to set off as many as possible." Grinning wolfishly, he pointed a finger at the building's roof. "If the goods are on the fifth floor, then making your way down from the roof should be just as quick. If I passed over the building's roof in the shuttlecar, could you drop down with your tactical cloak, and make your way in?"

"The cloak wouldn't be perfect during the descent, but nobody on the ground should notice anything. If you didn't drop me from too high, I suppose I could make the fall. But why the roof?"

"Because when I start shooting, they'll think I'm trying to hijack a transport off Elysium. Hector's men know the price on my head, and they'll be tripping over themselves trying to take me in. Even if it doesn't pull all of the guards out of the tower, they'll probably move some upper-floor patrols down to the lower levels, just to be safe."

"That's reckless, even for you!" She shook her head. "How long do you think you can last in a firefight, all by yourself?"

"The landing zones are at least ten minutes away from the building." Casually, he motioned to the holographic display. "Sure, they'll be able to overrun my position with numbers – eventually. But you'll have a quicker go of it inside the building, **and** you'll be free to kick as much arse as you like – without worrying about the implants. They'll assume all the alarm triggers have been set off by me."

"It's not how I usually do things." Kasumi crossed her arms and stared intently at the display, deep in thought.

"You play to your strengths, and I'll play to mine." Zaeed understood that introducing such a chaotic element to the mission was risky. He didn't doubt Kasumi's ability, but he knew that a distraction would speed up the operation immensely, and minimize the risk of her getting caught. But it was more than that. For months, he had been nursing a deep wound to his pride – incurred by having to hide from Hector Vilmarc, and exacerbated by Franco Antonelli's humiliation. He desperately needed to shoot someone.

"And once I get the data, I suppose it'll be on me to get you out of there in one piece?" Kasumi's lightly mocking tone stirred Zaeed from his reverie.

"It'll be just like old times." They began to work out the plan's specifics: refining the details and determining contingencies.

They would strike at dawn the following morning.


End file.
